


Over Heels

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, M/M, synthale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28970079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: Miles has been under a misconception about Julian's proclivities since T'Lani Prime. Julian thinks this is absolutely hilarious.Or, refuting the foot fetish theory with 100% verifiable facts.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Miles O'Brien, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 41
Kudos: 114





	Over Heels

Miles blamed it on the synthale.

The crew of the _Defiant_ had gotten a quiet couple of days, relatively speaking. Quiet enough that Julian had no patients and suggested Miles come to his quarters for a couple of drinks, and quiet enough that Miles could agree. He’d just finished repairs from their latest battle, and honestly, he mostly wanted to sleep. But then he remembered one or both of them could die any day. He had enough regrets and didn’t want to add skipping his last chance for drinks with Julian to the list, so he accepted the invitation. They only drank synthehol, of course. Nobody could afford to drink real alcohol when they might need to be on duty any minute.

Still, if you let synthale work, it gave a pleasant buzz. Miles lifted a fresh pint to his lips. “This was a good idea.”

“I’m glad you think so,” said Julian. 

“You got Garak to clear out for a bit?”

It had surprised exactly nobody when Julian volunteered to room with Garak. Miles figured this worked out for the best, and that wasn’t even getting into the lack of other people interested in sharing a room with an ex-Obsidian Order agent. Julian was a great friend. Trouble was, he liked to talk to unwind. So Miles, who did not enjoy long chats when exhausted, was happy enough rooming with Lieutenant Sangthong, their extremely introverted weapons specialist who never once tried to initiate a conversation when Miles just wanted to go to bed (or any other time, for that matter).

Julian nodded. “Ensign T’Rel offered to introduce him to kal-toh.”

“Ah.” More power to her.

“About Garak,” said Julian, suddenly and suspiciously interested in examining his synthale. 

“What’s he done now?”

“We’re having sex.”

That wasn’t a surprise, either. The two of them had been dancing around each other for five years now, and the Dominion could kill anyone and everyone on the _Defiant_ any given hour. If Julian found some comfort with Garak, or one less regret to worry about, Miles couldn’t begrudge him that much. Even if he did think Julian had awful taste in men.

He didn’t say the last part out loud. Keiko would be proud. “Not sure what you see in him, but so long as you’re happy.” 

“Happy is relative these days,” said Julian.

“True.” Mostly it centered around still being alive, although Miles had to admit that the very special pictures Keiko sent him last week made him a happy man indeed. 

“But inasmuch as the situation allows, yes. I’m glad we decided to go for it. Might as well go out enjoying some good sex if the Dominion is going to atomize us.”

“Sure,” agreed Miles. “You two a couple, then, or is it just sex?”

Julian shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

In Miles’ experience, it was always best to be clear on that distinction ahead of time. Then again, trying to get a straight answer from Garak seemed like a losing battle, so maybe Julian was just embracing ambiguity to save time. 

“The way I see it, the point is moot right now. We can worry about that later. Provided we’re both alive, of course.”

Not how Miles would go about it, but it seemed to be working for Julian, so okay. “Sure. Seize the moment, and all that.”

Julian nodded emphatically. “Exactly.”

“Good for you, then. Just spare me the details next time we have real alcohol, will you? I don’t need to know about Garak’s feet or whatever.”

Julian had to know about his tendency to overshare when drunk. Didn’t he? But then why was he staring at Miles with an absolutely confused expression on his face?

“His feet?”

“Y’know,” said Miles uncomfortably. “Whatever turns you on…”

This was when Julian burst out laughing. If he didn’t have those genetically enhanced reflexes, he probably would’ve splashed his synthale all over his carpet. Miles, meanwhile, sat there fervently wishing he hadn’t opened his big mouth. 

A full minute later, Julian wiped tears from his eyes. “God, I needed that.”

“Glad to help,” said Miles sourly. 

“You thought I had a foot fetish?”

“You waxed poetic about your ex’s feet!”

“Palis? She was a dancer, Miles.”

“With exquisite feet.” The phrase was unfortunately memorable. 

“I then explained, ‘It’s very important for a dancer to have good arches.’”

Miles didn’t remember that part, but he’d learned it wasn’t a good idea to question Julian’s recall. Julian’s genetic resequencing was an emotional minefield best avoided. He was getting better about the topic - slowly. 

“Well, most people don’t make a point to talk about their ex’s feet,” Miles said in his own defense.

Julian chuckled again. “She was a ballerina, Miles. That’s the absolute last career a foot fetishist would want in a partner. How do you imagine someone’s feet would look when they’ve spent years putting all their weight on the tips of their toes?”

“Never thought about it,” said Miles, who was unclear on why anyone would want to do that in the first place.

“Well, the answer is ‘not especially attractive,’ and that’s on a good day. Her feet looked lovely in shoes and on stage. Out of the shoes it’s a completely different story. It used to be worse for dancers, of course; modern medicine has made it easier. They don’t have to deal with toenails falling out, for instance.” Miles made a face. That sounded nasty, alright. “Still, her feet were covered in calluses. They had to be. They were regularly bruised, she needed surgery on a nasty bunion, and the blisters after _Swan Lake_ …”

“I get the picture, Julian.”

“Right. In ballet, it’s all about the lines. Good feet look a certain way on stage. Battered and bruised is par for the course.”

Miles wouldn’t claim to know much about foot fetishes, but what Julian described didn’t sound like the stuff of pornography to him. It made sense, too. Miles worked with his hands all day long, and it showed. He couldn’t be a hand model. 

“My point still stands,” he said. “Spare me the details on your sex life, please. There are some mental pictures I really don’t want.” That included any and all where Garak was naked. 

“I’ll try to control myself.”

It was at this point Miles noticed velvet ropes tied to the bed. Julian followed his gaze and said, “Ah, we forgot about those.”

“For God’s sake, Julian.”

Still, he was glad Julian had something good in his life right now. He needed it, maybe even more than the rest of them did. If his happiness came from sex with Garak, well, there was no accounting for taste. Feet or no feet. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am not and have never been a dancer. However, I do work at a dance school and I promise you the above is all absolutely true. The foot fetish theory annoys me, not to kink-shame, but because it is based on a completely false premise. I have heard a dancer's own grandfather say he wouldn't touch his granddaughter's feet with a ten-foot pole. Dancers' feet are disgusting, and when they talk about having beautiful feet, they do not mean it how you or I would take that statement. At all.


End file.
